


Steamed

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 04:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21350455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Tom and Harry play chicken.
Relationships: Harry Kim/Tom Paris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Steamed

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“Auugh,” Harry whines, leaning back against the cool wall of the sauna, which barely offers any relief at all. “It’s _boiling_ in here.”

“That’s the point,” Tom hums, lounging next to Harry with his eyes closed. He actually looks _peaceful_, which should be impossible, because Harry’s sure they’re going to die. Even the damp towel wrapped around his waist is too much coverage—he wants to strip down naked, even knowing that won’t help. This is the sort of moist, cloying heat that’s made its way beneath his skin. He squirms, about ready to call it. 

Tom mutters, “You’re getting weak, Harry.”

Harry snorts. He’d playfully punch Tom’s arm, but he feels too sluggish to move. He insists, “I can handle it, I just don’t want to.”

“_Sure_,” Tom says, in that way that implies he doesn’t believe it. Which is frustrating. Just because Harry’s an ensign doesn’t mean he’s any less well trained than Tom. If anything, he’s more so; he actually made it through the _whole_ Academy.

Harry parries, “I could take it longer than you could.”

“Pfft. Could not.”

“I’m serious. I could.”

“Alright, what do you wanna bet on it?” Tom finally opens his eyes, straightening out. 

He turns to look at Harry, already in betting mode. Harry’s _back down_ instinct instantly flares, because he can tell Tom’s about to go all in, and it’s really not that serious. But Harry’s already dug himself too deep, so he has to suggest, “A week’s worth of replicator rations?”

“Make it a month.”

“No way.”

“See, you don’t think you can win.”

Harry rolls his eyes but doesn’t give in. It wouldn’t be worth it. Tom grins, then shuffles closer. 

He sidles closer still, until his towel’s pressing into Harry’s, and Harry can feel his plush thighs right through it. Harry glances down, dazed, as Tom’s shoulder nudges into his. Tom slowly turns, facing Harry properly, and opens his arms. 

Harry swallows. He’s doomed. 

Tom presses flush against him, chest digging into his side, and Tom even presses his lips against Harry’s cheek. Harry groans. Tom’s hand strays across his lap, feeling him through the towel. Tom finds the right place, and the hell of his palm digs in, right against—

“Not fair,” Harry hisses.

Tom chuckles, “We didn’t establish any rules.” He tilts to lick the sweat off Harry’s neck, which should be gross, but just makes Harry shiver. He was burning up before, but now he’s _on fire._ Tom’s body is a furnace. Tom lifts his hand to splay across Harry’s chest, rubbing over one nipple, and Harry groans, but then forces himself to break away.

If he heats up anymore, he’ll pass out. He can take it. Tom chases his mouth, but Harry barks, “Computer, end sauna program.”

The room flashes. Everything disappears, right down to their towels. Tom falls off where the bench was just a minute ago. Harry nervously orders, “Begin shower program.” The holodeck beeps its acknowledgement. They’re in a fancy spa again, the towels back. The abrupt temperature change should make Harry shiver, but he still feels like he’s broiling. 

Tom climbs gingerly off the floor and chuckles, “Guess I won.”

Harry shrugs, blushing, and heads for the showers.


End file.
